


Kira

by Umpleby



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:40:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23416861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Umpleby/pseuds/Umpleby
Summary: Dedicated to Ametistina
Relationships: Dukat/Kira Nerys
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	Kira

Kira hated herself for what she was doing, but she just couldn’t stop. She told herself that it was too late to stop now, anyway, that she was just caught up in the moment.

Dukat’s hands were under her white blouse, his cool fingers stroking her back. His hair tickled her face as his lips moved against her neck, gentling her as if he were handling a frightened wild animal. She clung to his shoulders, feeling the muscles work under his skin as he stroked her. 

When he kissed her she caught handfuls of his thick hair and pulled. The strands were as soft as silk, in sharp contrast to the scales on his skin. The pulling must have signalled her readiness for a change in pace to Dukat, and he pushed his tongue into her mouth. The bolder Terran and Bajoran women he had bedded had always enjoyed it. 

Kira grasped his shoulders and pressed herself to him as if she were trying to push him away with her whole body. His cock pressed into her belly and she could feel the full girth of it against her. For a moment he felt her draw back. But he wasn’t going to let her get away. He wrapped his arms around her. She began to struggle but he held her mouth firmly to his with a hand at the back of her head, and the other like a band of iron across her hips.

He suddenly broke the kiss and let her go; they looked at each other, panting. She dropped her hand and there was an awful moment when he thought he saw her slump in self-disgust. He collected himself and watched her carefully, his hands loosely on her arms. She could see him bending a little, trying to gaze into her face.

She looked up at him with a certain effort. Her eyelids felt heavy and she felt weak-kneed. He gathered her to him and held her close. He wasn’t going to give up on bedding her. He had wanted her for too long. And in spite of her self-disgust he would have her. He would take her self-disgust and transmute it into an equal longing for him.

He knew that she had crossed every line in her mind and she had lost her compass. Had he ever known a woman who had come to him willingly at first? They had been impelled by duty, like his wife, or by an uncontrollable obsession, like Naprem, or by fear, like Meru.

But each of them had always returned for what only he, Dukat, could provide. It was time to take proper charge. He grasped the edges of her blouse and pushed it up, running his fingers over her breasts in proprietary fashion.

She gasped and shook her head, looking at him like a stricken fawn. He raised her arms up and pushed the blouse all the way up. Working fast, he unclasped her bra and released her full breasts. He picked her up, carried her to his bed and laid her on it, kneeling over her to lick and nuzzle her breasts.

There was a long mirror across one side of his quarters and Kira could see herself, topless on the bed, with Dukat kneeling over her, his silky hair and lips all over her heavy breasts with their large nipples. She had never been as aroused. The turbulent mix of arousal and confusion drive her into panic and she tried with all her strength to push Dukat away and escape. When she saw the ferocity of his expression she knew he had no intention of letting her go and she unleashed her desire and rage on him by pummelling him with both fists.

He only caught her elbows when she reached for his eyes, and gently held them flat against the bed. Then, calmly, he resumed kissing her skin. After a moment, she lay back, hopeless tears in her eyes. 

When he had kissed her right down to the waistband of her trousers, he stopped and knelt over her, looking into her face. “You’re free to leave,” he said. And he got off the bed and turned his back on her, looking out of the nearest porthole.

He smiled grimly to himself when he heard the sound of her trying to suppress her sobs. Overwhelmed by frustrated desire, blindsided by a vicious wave of hatred for herself, humiliated now by her greatest enemy, she failed to stem her tears. Even muffled through the pillow, he heard the pain in her cries as she sobbed her heart out.

Well, it wouldn’t be the first time a woman had sobbed in his bed. 

But he felt none of the usual pride at having conquered a woman all the way to the depths of her being. He just felt small at her distress, and that was entirely new and unpalatable.

He went into his bathroom and started to draw a bath. Then he stripped down to his underwear and sat down on the bed. He waited for her sobs to stop and her face to rise from the pillow. She finally sat up, sniffling, stiffly holding her back to him. She was facing the mirror and she saw him mostly naked, and for the first time hearing the running water, turned to him. He reached out for her and gathered her into his arms, seeing that the fight had gone out of her. She drew in a long shaky breath, reminding him of a child who had just had a good cry. 

He took off her boots, her socks, then he laid her back on the bed and drew down her trousers. He left her panties on, then picked her up and carried her to the bath. Gently he set her on her feet, tested the water, and then took off his underwear. He ignored the tension in her body, and, careful not to meet her eyes, perched on the edge of the bath and undressed her completely. 

He lifted her into the bath, and ignoring what she might think about his half-erection, lowered himself in. He took hold of her shoulders and manoeuvred her so her back was against his chest, and neither of them could see the other’s face. 

He laved her shoulders with the warm water, keeping her close to him, occasionally kissing the back of her head. Gradually they both relaxed, and she laid her head back against his shoulder, sighing.

It wasn’t the most comfortable feeling to be pressed against his chest ridges, but she found she wouldn’t have changed her position for anything in the world. She felt completely calm and safe, in the arms of someone who she had no doubt would kill her efficiently as soon as she had fulfilled her purpose for him.

She tried to summon up her worst memories of the occupation, but she found that they kept slipping away. She looked at his arms around her, at those long, strong fingers stroking her arms, and she tried to conjure up scenes where they unleashed violence and torture. But she instead found herself thinking of the time she had used a phaser to torture a captured Cardassian, stunning him over and over again until he vomited.

Am I so different? She wondered. Yes! a part of her mind cried. Yes! /You/ never invaded another world and occupied it! But he was a military man, sworn to obeying orders. She knew better than anyone that when you fought for a cause you couldn’t choose to stay clean when your closest comrades were dirtying themselves to save you. 

It all made her head ache. She sighed. He remained quiet and they both listened to the /plink, plink/ of the tap.

She closed her fingers over his and leaned back against him. He guessed that some momentous change had been taking place inside her and stayed very still. It felt like a softening, a release, but he couldn’t be sure. Maybe she was locking away all those Cardassian associations that were tormenting her, so that she could consummate her desire for him.

He understood very well the torment of desire for one’s enemy. He had come to Bajor full of contempt for the Bajorans, delighting in punishing those Bajorans who dared to defy him in the least manner. Then he had fallen in love with Naprem, and no amount of reasoning with himself had swayed his heart a single iota. Night after night he had resisted that burning, until he had given in to his basest desires and taken her. The only fact that had stopped it being rape had been that she had desired him back. And when he realised that, he had fallen so deeply in love with her that he had never really emerged. Until now.He closed his eyes and imagined it was Naprem in his arms, but the image remained stubbornly Kira’s. The sharp scent of female was definitely Kira’s. At that, he began to grow hard, and he softly kissed her neck, with its particular texture. He could never predict which expanse of her skin would be rough, and which smooth. 

Kira could feel her desire building and she moaned softly, unconscious of doing so. He simply kept kissing her neck and those long fingers began to work on her breasts, stroking the curves and circling the nipples. Kira broke. She twisted round and kneeling upright between his long thighs, kissed him with all her might, one hand behind his head and the other reaching between his legs. 

He was, of course, ridged, and hard as an iron bar. She wondered for a moment if it would hurt her. But, running her fingers all over, she judged he had just enough pliancy to work with her soft Bajoran flesh.

He was momentarily stunned by her assault, but he recovered as only a Cardassian could do, immediately cupping her sex with one hand and stroking her bottom with the other, aggressively pushing his tongue into her mouth. As she began to stroke the hard length of him, he pushed the tips of his fingers into her opening, slick with wetness.

Kira broke the kiss and going on hands and knees as best she could in the tub, took him into her mouth. Dukat had never had much use for the practice - Bajoran and human mouths were not made for forceful usage. It was an unnecessary step in the proceedings. But since she wanted to do this...and he particularly enjoyed the sight of her buttocks rising out of the scented water...she looked up at him with those large brown eyes for a moment and then, shutting them, went to work with a will. 

Dukat rapidly calculated the possibilities of the tub. With the levels of force he knew he would use, she would be hurt, ground between him and the Cardassian stone.

She was moaning in time with the back-and-forth of her mouth, her whole body rocking with the rhythm she had set. He realised she wasn’t trying to impress him; she really enjoyed this. Her excitement was infecting him and he decided to take back control.

He pushed on her shoulders until she was kneeling upright again, looking bereft, her lips swollen, panting.

He drew close to her and kissed her soundly, pressing her softness against his him. Then he let her go, left the tub, and leaning in, carried her out. He wrapped a towel around her and gently dried her off, taking the opportunity to kiss and caress her as he wended his way across her body.

She felt so fragile, and for the first time in his life his whole heart went out to someone he had power over. Usually he delighted in his control over them. 

She has reached a point of arousal where he could feel her trembling in his arms. She breathed shakily against him as he carried her not to the bed, with its impudent mirror, but to an ottoman facing the porthole. No longer able to see her own conflicting emotions, she calmed down slightly.

In the space of an hour, Kira had passed rapidly through many stages of feeling with Dukat. At moments she felt like a child with its mother, at others like a rebellious teenager, at yet others like a femme fatale, and she could not even let the feeling that she was a traitor get a look-in.

She was exhausted. Letting go of everything, she submitted to the pressure of his body and lay on the ottoman. The ceiling blurred as he folded a hand round her ankle and dipped his head between her legs. 

He brought her through her frenzy to the edge of the cliff, but drew her back when she wanted to leap over it. In the light of the wormhole opening and closing, opening and closing, he displayed to her his ridged organ, black with desire. She knew this was a part of the Cardassian mating ritual, where the male proved to the female the extent of his desire for her. Cardassian males secreted a thick lubricant from pores all along the penis at the peak of their arousal, and Dukat’s organ was fully engorged and slick. Kira cried out in frustrated desire just before Dukat plowed into her, bellowing like a bull in spring.

Their coupling was to Kira like being on an out-of-control shuttlecraft. Sensation succeeded dizzying sensation and tore her sense of identity into shreds. She could see only a blur as he took her in a frenzy and hear only their animal cries, bass and contralto.

She clenched her whole body around the point that he penetrated her, and her identity exploded in a brilliant blossom of colour behind her closed eyelids. 

Coming back to her body was a lot more difficult. She was sore, and the bed was very wet, and she felt completely emptied out. Dukat lay on his back, his eyes closed, his hands shaking, covered with a fine sheen of sweat as he, too, made his way back into his flesh.

For a long time both of them only heard the sound of their own breathing. 

After a while, Dukat got up and put on a robe, and then scooped her up and carried her to the bed. He drew a sheet over her and then lay by her side, stroking her hand, gazing at her fingers as if they were his only preoccupation.

She understood he was giving her the space to compose herself and to be restored to language. 

When he looked at her finally she saw the shrinking in his eyes. He thought she would proclaim her disgust for him and she felt his apprehension.

Instead she reached out and stroked his face and his fine, damp hair. She didn’t know how to thank him for gifting her such an out-of- body experience, so she simply stroked the ridges of his face and neck. He shifted closer so she could continue, visibly relaxing.

He kissed her fingers and palm when she reached his lips. It was ship’s night and she felt languorous and sleepy. Yet that cruel voice inside her, the one with the sharp whip, was already rearing its head.

Shona, he said, the Cardassian word for ‘beloved’. Don’t think about anything. Sleep. You’re safe here. And she did, without dreams, cradled in his warmth.

The next day Dukat was due to leave for Cardassia. She woke early in his arms. He was watching her, a curious softness in his face. Joy was in it, as well as sorrow at the fleeting nature of their encounter. He was a Legate of Cardassia, after all, and he had places to be.

He kissed her, and then he stroked her breasts until her breath came in gasps and she writhed closer to him.

The pace was completely different this time. Kira had ample time to realise the depth of her feelings for him while he rocked inside her, while he submerged her in the billows and surges they created together.

When the last shout has been wrung from her and he had pulled out of her, he took great care in dressing her, kissing her as he went, on his knees before her, worshiping her soft skin. 

When she was about to cry with the overwhelming emotion of it he stopped her mouth with a kiss. No, he said, no tears, Shona.

A few hours later he bade her a rather subdued goodbye in sight of Sisko and Dax, thanking her for her great help in reconciling Bajor to Cardassia. She didn’t think anyone else noticed the undercurrent of humor to his formal words.

Would she ever do - that - with him again? All she knew was that she had more in common with him than she had ever realised. She was bound to him by bonds deeper than love or romance. They had fought side-by-side, as comrades. There could not be a more direct way to her heart.


End file.
